


reach out and touch

by writingfromtheshadows



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Comfort, Depression, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12045096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfromtheshadows/pseuds/writingfromtheshadows
Summary: Viktor had thought he was lonely here before, but he hadn't understood how starved for affection he was until it became readily available to him.





	reach out and touch

**Author's Note:**

> _Title from "Touch" by Troye Sivan_

Nights like these are always the worst. The nights when Viktor staggers up the stairs to his apartment, half-heartedly eats whatever leftovers that are in the fridge, and collapses on his couch, physically unable to make it to his bed.   
  
They are the nights when he curls into a ball, hands gripping opposite arms, nails digging into his skin as he desperately tries to cling onto a sense of existence. Makkachin's soft whine is always what breaks the floodgates: a sign of concern coming from the only being that sees more than the facade, the persona, of Viktor Nikiforov, figure skating's living legend. His body shakes as sobs tear through him, and Viktor hates how weak it makes him feel.   
  
A grown man reduced to tears over what?   
_   
_ __ Touch-starved.   
  
He'd seen the phrase in passing several years ago, when he was still head-over-heels in love with the ice, when he hadn't yet learned to put a wall around his emotions to protect him from the public eye. Back then, he had found the concept entirely foreign, hadn't been able to wrap his mind around it.   
  
It's become a constant companion.   
  
Viktor hates it.   
  
On nights like these, when his sobs quiet into hiccups, when he uncurls his body enough for Makkachin to hop on the couch and nuzzle under his arm, Viktor tries not to think back to the last time someone touched with him without demanding something in return. 

Fans reach out, brushing the edges of his clothes with a reverence that he will never get used to; other skaters will shake his hand, grip slightly too tight in an attempt to assert some sort of dominance; investors clap him on the shoulder after every win, congratulating him with smiles that don't mask the greed in their eyes. When he gets truly desperate and turns to random strangers that he picks up in clubs or bars, their touches are distant, temporary, forgotten by the next day.  
  
Viktor feels like he's fading away. As if genuine human connection is what anchors him to the world, and that the more time he passes without it, the closer he becomes to vanishing in the wind. It's absurd, dramatic, something he'd expect to fly out of Georgi's mouth.  
  
But, on night's like these, as Viktor stares at the palms of his hands, part of him wonders if fading away would be better than living life as a shell, faking smiles and mirroring other's expressions as he tries to appear okay.  
  
He wants the ache in his chest to stop.  
  
  
  


  
  
"Viktor?" Arms wrap around him from over the back of the couch and a kiss is dropped on top of his head, "are you alright? You've been staring at your hand for a while."   
  
Viktor hums, leaning into Yuuri's embrace, "I was just thinking."   
  
"Oh? Care to share with the class?" Even without turning, Viktor can picture the expression on his fiancé’s face: brown eyes sparkling and a small, amused, smile curling onto his lips.   
  
"I was thinking about how glad I am that I decided to fly to Japan and become your coach." He says, moving up to lace his fingers with Yuuri's, smiling when gold rings glint in the moonlight streaming through the windows.   
  
This apartment never really felt like home until Yuuri moved in with him.   
  
Viktor had thought he was lonely here before, but he hadn't understood how starved for affection he was until it became readily available to him.   
  
He'll never get tired of waking up to the feeling of Yuuri in his arms, or the way Yuuri will brush fringe away from his eyes when they're still drowsy from sleep. He’ll never stop being amazed at the way that Yuuri can size him up, eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in each inch of Viktor's body before opening his arms, beckoning Viktor in for the type of hug that leaves them rocking side-to-side, Yuuri's hands rubbing soothing circles into Viktor's back because he can just tell Viktor needs it. Each time Yuuri reaches out to hold Viktor's hand, every kiss that's pressed affectionately to his shoulder, or cheek, or nose, or lips, makes Viktor fall just a little bit more in love when he was convinced he couldn't possibly love Yuuri more than he already does.   
  
"You're perfect. You know that, right?"   
  
Yuuri laughs and straightens, but he doesn't let go of Viktor's hand as he steps around the couch so they can look at each other, "I'm far from it, but thank you."   
  
Pressing a kiss to the ring on Yuuri's finger, Viktor winks, "you're perfect to me. I'm not sure what I would have done if I hadn't tricked you into falling in love with me."   
  
Another laugh. The sound fills the apartment with warmth, Makkachin glances up from where she had been sleeping in the corner, tail wagging slightly before her head drops back down.   
  
It's been over a year since she had needed to snuggle up to Viktor as he cried himself to sleep on the couch, and that's all thanks to Yuuri.   
  
"You didn't trick me at all, Vitya, I fell in love with you fair and square." Yuuri stifles a yawn, "and it's because I love you that I got out of our warm bed to tell you to come to sleep. It's nearly one in the morning."   
  
Getting to his feet, Viktor pulls Yuuri into the curve of his body, pressing into a gentle kiss. He doesn't linger long, because he doesn't have to. He can kiss Yuuri tomorrow, and every day after that. He can ask for hugs when he's sad or drop his head on Yuuri's shoulder when he's tired. They have all the time in the world.   
  
"Thank you, Yuuri."   
  
He can tell that Yuuri knows Viktor isn't talking about dragging him back to bed. But Yuuri merely pushes up into another quick kiss before murmuring, "anytime."   
  



End file.
